


but your scent still remains

by illumarks, markhyuckfest



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illumarks/pseuds/illumarks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/markhyuckfest/pseuds/markhyuckfest
Summary: Prompt number:#MH074Summary:After a long moment he sinks down to the sidewalk, unable to stand anymore,  unable to believe that Donghyuck just walked away, in the middle of the afternoon, not even looking back once.





	but your scent still remains

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [ walking in time](https://youtu.be/Xi349ysBaW8) by the boyz. might be a bit confusing at first but hang in there! some of the dates like comebacks and birthdays might not be the same as they are irl, but i hope you enjoy this anyway! happy reading :)

"Boarding starts from this gate in 7:45," the attendant says, picking up the papers from the countertop and handing them over in one smooth, practiced move. A smudge of lipstick stains her front teeth like blood, before it gets wiped away as she speaks and then most of it is gone. The boarding passes are neatly slotted in between bright blue leather covers with his name scrawled across the front, and she hands them over, giving him a small bow and a perfunctory smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "Have a good day, sir." 

He takes the papers and places them into the front pocket of his coat. He thinks one last time about telling her of the remainder of the lipstick, but he knows it will be embarrassing for the both of them, so with the sound of many footsteps clacking over the polished floor reverberating through the building, Mark walks away.

As he makes his way through, he looks over the many metal benches in the waiting area, choosing which one to sit in for the next hour while he waits for the next flight out. He maneuvers the rows of metal chairs nearest him and spots an empty seat, dragging his rolling suitcase through the sea of shoes. The terminal isn't as packed as it usually would be on a normal day, but it’s still teeming with people, and once again he's grateful for the absence of fansites.

As he sinks into the seat gratefully, he looks at the passport in his hands, thinking of nothing in particular. He runs his thumb over the embossed white letters. _Mark Lee._

Beneath his disposable mask, he smiles quietly to himself. 

His mom had long ago abandoned her embarrassing habit of giving him presents with his name embossed on it, as if there was a chance he’d ever forget it, or like she wanted to announce it to the world, but nonetheless Mark is still especially fond of his passport holder. It’s one of the few things he has leftover from his non-idol days, and it reminds him of simpler times.

 _Mark Lee._ His fingers brush ever so lightly over the blue plastic again. Sometimes, on rainy Sunday mornings, if he thinks about it, he would find himself missing her and his dad. His brother even. These days, he finds himself missing a lot of people.

Despite the fair amount of people, the terminal is strangely hushed, people not speaking due to the late hour. A few fluorescent lights flickering sparsely in the greyish backdrop. It reminds him almost of a hospital at night, eerie but not quite. Through the giant glass walling he can see the sprawling sky over Incheon, overcast and dull, a blanket of gray. 

Around him, couples murmur in low voices, teenagers listening to music, tired mothers curled up over their bags fast asleep. 

He pulls out his phone and types out a brief message on his email, _Boarding in an hour, can’t wait to see you_ , stares at it for a second, deciding to the delete the last phrase before he presses send and slides it back into his pocket. He finds himself staring out over the room, eyes blank and unseeing. He tries not to think about what lies ahead, forcibly clearing his mind.

Later, on the plane, Mark fiddles with his seat belt, adjusting it twice until it is slung comfortably around his torso. The engine rumbles to life beneath his feet as the attendants in the aisle remind them to stay seated until the captain has turned off the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign. He picks up the magazine lying on the tray table, page folded at the top corner. A black and white solo shot of himself stares out, the words "TO THE WORLD: _Embracing Global Stardom_ " printed in bold, glittering letters across the page. 

He stares at his photo, face purposely blank, looking straight into the camera. For some unknown reason the look on his face in the photo strangely irritates him, and he snaps it shut before any of the words can tempt him to read the full article. _It's probably the same as the other thousands of articles written about me and the group,_ he thinks, devoid of any smugness. Just the same old words swapped around into new arrangements. Nothing he hasn't read before over the last eight years. 

He tucks the magazine back into the seat pocket in front of him. 

The faint rumble of the engine fades into the background, and slowly he leans back on his reclined seat. He shakes his head once, trying to clear his mind, and lets the sounds around him lull him to sleep.

.

When he opens his eyes, there is a boy standing over him. Mark blinks and sits up, rubbing his eyes. 

"Hello?” he mutters uncertainly. 

"Hi, there," the boy replies. Mark’s vision is a mess without glasses and he can’t see his features, but the boy’s voice is sweet and high and bold, head tilted to the side as he unabashedly sizes up Mark. The latter is numb with sleep, too dazed to feel embarrassed about his state of undress. He slides his glasses on and stares, not really knowing how to react.

The boy extends his hand, and Mark shakes it, blinking blearily.

"My name is Donghyuck," in the faint light only the boy's eyes can be seen, luminous, if not a little unwary. His eyebrows furrow uncertainly as he waits for Mark to speak. When nothing comes, he hurries to fill the awkward silence. "... and they told me we're going to be roommates?"

 _Oh_. So this was him. The new guy. "Oh. Cool. Hi! I'm Mark." 

He coughs to hide his awkwardness, conscious of the way he rolls his r's, green and unaccustomed to the language he grew up barely knowing. _Marrrk._ (Majority of people's responses have been innocent laughter at Mark's poorly pronounced introduction. With the exception of Youngho, whose eyes had lit up in recognition and Jaehyun, who had only nodded knowingly. He wouldn't hold it against the new boy if he laughed at him, too.)

The stranger, Donghyuck, only smiles widely at him. Mark notes absentmindedly how nice his smile is; the kind that makes him want to smile back in answer.

"I know. Taeyong hyung told me your name when he gave me the tour." He pulls out the desk chair, dragging it over until is directly in front of Mark's bed, so that they sit facing each other. "He says you're older than me, so I should be respectful, and he also told me you were from overseas - Canada! Is that true? What’s it like there? I've never been anywhere except Jeju, and Busan – just once, when I was young – and now Seoul, I guess."

He crosses his hands over the back of the chair, resting his head in his arms as he chatters incessantly in a high, clear voice. He gestures excitedly, and in spite of himself Mark finds himself smiling back gently.

As he listens, he notes with faint surprise how startlingly beautiful his new roommate is. His adolescence is evident on his lanky figure and oversized snapback, written on the acne scars dotting his forehead, but the confidence in the way he talks, the way he seems to carry himself, is unusual in pubescent teens and gives him a glow Mark can’t help but notice. His thoughts are interrupted by Donghyuck's continuing monologue.

" — because that's where my grandma lives, so we always spend the holidays there. So there's that, Jeju, Busan, and Seoul. A bit on the short side, I know, but I heard about Shinee being in Europe and I can't wait to debut so we can attend overseas schedules and go _everywhere._ ” 

The last word is emphasized, punctuated by Donghyuck’s widened eyes, as if the idea of debuting and traveling was too incredible to fathom. Mark absently nods in agreement. He dreams of it, too. Just like Donghyuck, he can't wait to debut, and if this boy lasts long enough here, maybe they can even see the world together as co-members. 

Mark remembers his first trip to Korea not too long ago, sitting stiffly in his seat, frightened and heart still aching from his tear-filled farewell with his mother back at the airport. 

Perhaps travelling with this his new friend Donghyuck wouldn't be as lonely.

"Is that all you brought with you?" he asks, noticing the large black backpack Donghyuck is wearing over his bright red jacket. 

"Oh no, all my other stuff are still out on the hallway." 

Mark stands up as the other boy leads the way to the where the door is propped open with a suitcase, a duffel bag and a rolled blanket lying on top of three boxes of ramen. 

"Hyung–” Mark startles at the honorific, "– do you mind if I take the top bunk?" 

He shakes his head in response. "Go ahead and take it, I don't mind." 

Donghyuck moves forward and takes the duffel bag with both hands, using his feet to push the boxes in the direction of the large cabinet at the end of the room. 

Mark watches Donghyuck for a moment, excitement starting to bubble his chest as the prospect of having someone to share the room with finally sinks in. Someone finally younger than him (Jisung's mom only lets him train in the summers when school is out, and he and Mark have barely exchanged two words so far), someone he doesn't have to be careful around. He eyes Donghyuck's bright red jacket curiously. Maybe even someone he might eventually call a friend, hopefully.

After a second he retrieves his shirt from where it had previously fallen on the floor. Slowly he rolls his neck and stretches his arms, eyeing the heavy looking suitcase at his feet.

.

He reaches out and tugs at the handle with one hand, and the suitcase comes off the conveyor belt easily. He lets it drag it behind him as he walks hurriedly among his fellow passengers, his other hand clenched nervously around his phone. 

As he emerges from the doors of the terminal, he immediately spots a brown haired figure waving at him from the arrival area amidst the waiting crowd. 

He stops dead in his tracks, and for the tenth of a second, pure, cold fear washes over him, but it goes just as suddenly as it comes. He swallows against the lump in his throat. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. It had never actually felt real to him until now, in this very moment. Standing in the middle of the colossal airport complex, hands trembling slightly, he is struck by what this day actually means, by all that he can gain and lose by it, by how much has already changed. His vision shifts, and he feels his heart stammer wildly in his chest as he inhales a lung full of air.

Even after all these years, he'd know that confident stance anywhere. Always standing out, ever so distinct and recognizable, Mark is all too familiar with the way this boy can outshine just about anyone in a room full of people.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of walking, he stops in front of the other boy. Something inside him begins to hurt. He looks at the other boy in the eye, and though Mark is ready for any number of reactions – anger, happiness, shyness, even nothing – what he isn’t prepared for is this: something behind his eyes laid bare, a look like recognition, like an apology.

Mark lets go of the suitcase and drags his free hand across the back of his head, suddenly unsure. Strange how for half his life he’s stood in front of a crowd of thousands, fearless, and yet in the face of one boy he’s suddenly reduced to a jumbled mess of nerves and butterflies.

"Well," Mark said.

"Do I know you?" the other person asks him.

"I don't know,” he leans forward, peering into the boy’s face. “Actually, you do look a bit familiar."

“A bit?”

"A bit, yeah, your face does kind of ring a bell."

Mark rolls his eyes, face uncontrollably splitting into a wide grin. "Hi, Donghyuck." 

"Mark Lee." 

They both grin at each other, the latter shyly, the former dazzling. It’s overwhelming, and the seconds tick by as Mark wracks his brain for something else to say.

"Where are–"  
"Do you happen to–"

They both speak at the same time, and as Donghyuck starts laughing in that familiar nose-scrunching way of his, though he’s still kind of stunned, Mark feels some of the tension slowly leak out of his body. Time starts to flow again, and he laughs along softly, relieved. 

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Donghyuck asks, still laughing, as he leans forward to envelope Mark tightly in a hug that is achingly familiar. "I've missed you a lot, hyung." 

Mark slowly raises his previously frozen arms from his sides, folding Donghyuck tightly into an answering embrace. _Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck,_ his brain supplies helpfully to match the beat of his heart. It’s Donghyuck. It doesn’t feel real — none of the last few years have felt real anyway — and Donghyuck is warm and solid and real and here. Hugging him. 

Half a dozen heartbeats later, they pull back and look at each other, grinning like fools. Donghyuck still looks at him the same way, even after all these years. It knocks the wind out of Mark, that look of his, the twinkle in his eye, the depth of his smile. 

It is both familiar, and yet strange, on this face that looks just the tiniest bit older. This face he’s seen at 14, and then at 18, and now, in this moment, older, leaner, subtly rougher around the edges. It’s like he’s looking at all the past versions of Donghyuck at the same time, but also this older, unknown young man standing before him. It’s unsettling, but not unwelcome, like looking at a double exposed photo.

Looking at Donghyuck splits Mark right open, makes him want to say something stupid, but before he has time to hide the embarrassing rush of emotion, Donghyuck excitedly leans in again for another hug.

.

Mark returns the embrace, slinging one arm carefully around Donghyuck's shoulder. 

"Hyung," the younger whines into his shoulder, scrabbling at Mark's chest for emphasis, "we've been here for hours. I'm so tired. Can we go home?”

They had just finished practicing the choreography for what felt like the hundredth time that day, getting the tiniest details down again and again. 

This last time, before the final notes of the song could even finish playing, Mark had already immediately flopped down on to the floor where he stood, tired and out of breath. Donghyuck had followed suit, tumbling haphazardly on top of Mark, face forward and arms bracketing his sides. A small exhalation escaping his mouth as he flops onto the elder’s stomach. They lie in a sweaty heap on the practice room floor, knees tangled together. 

"Come on you two, you know we don’t have much time,” Taeyong walks over, stretching out one hand each to the both of them as he helps them stand. “Debut is only a few days away. We have to get this right,” their leader says, no bite to his tone, massaging the youngest's shoulders comfortingly. 

Donghyuck (Haechan soon, Mark remembers) is the most tired lately, being the youngest, and also due to extra hours spent practicing his special part in the choreography where he has to be lifted up by the others. It’s the hardest on him, and all of them can feel the strain.

Taeil takes a bottle of water from the mini fridge they keep in the corner and tosses them to Mark, who takes a small mouthful before passing it on to Donghyuck. “Drink this.” Donghyuck accepts it gratefully. 

"One last run, we have to get it perfect and then we can go back to the dorm, okay?" Taeyong raises his voice, addressing everyone in the room. "One last run, guys." 

Mark squeezes Donghyuck's hand before they move into position as the first few beats of _Firetruck’_ s intro starts playing.

Later, as the car pulls up in front of their dorm building, Mark tries to shake Donghyuck awake as gently as possible. They've both fallen asleep on the ride home, Mark's head thrown back unattractively on the headrest behind him. Donghyuck is draped comfortably over Mark, head resting on the crook of the elder's shoulder where he likes it best, their arms sticking together between them. He runs a finger light over the younger's cheek, whose eyes slowly flutter open at the disturbance. 

"Are we there yet?" he asks, peeking up at Mark sleepily, blinking the dust from his eyes.

"Yeah, we're home." 

Donghyuck only closes his eyes again and snuggles closer. "I'm so tired, hyung. I have no more energy left." As he speaks, his breath gushes out against Mark's neck, too hot, almost feverish. 

"Will you carry me?" The request is delivered quietly into Mark's shirt, and he feels a wave of tenderness wash over him. 

Aside from the endless hours of practice, the company was making their current maknae diet, too. These days it seems as though Donghyuck is running on limited energy, spread out too thinly. It makes Mark’s fist tighten in frustration as he watches his best friend grow more and more weary as their debut date looms ominously closer. 

He maneuvers Donghyuck onto his shoulder as their manager opens the door and takes their bags. The three of them trudge back to the dorm slowly, Donghyuck breathing softly on Mark's back while the others walk ahead. 

The night is cold, and the smell of oncoming rain permeates the air. A tiny sneeze makes its way out of Taeil, disturbing the relative silence of the night. Yuta and Sicheng turn back simultaneously at the entrance, crouching down to help the maknaes get their shoes off. Mark doesn’t speak, only nodding gratefully, for fear of waking up the sleeping boy he carried. 

When they get to their room, Jaehyun opens the door for them and helps Mark tuck Donghyuck into the lower bunk, the top bunk too high to reach for either of the tired boys.

"Good night, guys,” Jaehyun whispers as he closes the door behind him softly. “Sleep well.”

Mark changes out of his shirt and deposits their bags side by side neatly on top of a shelf. He hears Donghyuck stir quietly on his bed, and he pads over softly. 

"Go back to sleep," he whispers as he tucks the blanket carefully around the sleeping figure. He lays a cool palm on the boy's cheek. Too hot. Before he can move away, a hand darts out and gently wraps around his own. 

"Thank you for carrying me," Donghyuck whispers, voice small and eyes still closed.

Donghyuck, always so loud and bright in the daytime, almost too much to look at sometimes. But these days he is uncharacteristically quiet and reserved, like the sun on an overcast afternoon, and it's this solemn Donghyuck with the small voice that unnerves Mark the most. 

He knows without having to ask that his best friend is nervous, perhaps just a tad bit frightened at the prospect of debut closing in over them, even if the last thing he would ever do is admit it to Mark. 

He kneels by the bed, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to gently move tufts of Donghyuck's hair away from his forehead.

"It's alright, Hyuck,” he replies belatedly. Donghyuck is already snoring softly.

He climbs to the top bunk, flopping carelessly into Donghyuck's bed. It smells of lavender, and Taeyong's favorite fabric conditioner. He sinks into Donghyuck's bright yellow pillows, plugging his earphones in as he scrolls through a playlist.

.

After a second, a slow jazz instrumental starts to play softly over the speakers. 

"Is this okay?" Donghyuck asks from the driver's seat, gesturing to the speaker emanating music.

"Sure," Mark replies easily. He watches with wide eyes as Donghyuck maneuvers the car expertly, backing out of the parking lot and onto the street. He had never seen Donghyuck drive before. 

Mark's eyes are wide as he stares at the boy, no, the _young man_ next to him. 

Exactly the same, yet so vastly different. 

He was practically a stranger now, and yet, lame as it sounds, he was the only person he had ever called a best friend. Mark and Donghyuck, Donghyuck and Mark. They have not been friends for years now, not really, but Mark has never known any other best friend before or after Donghyuck. A few came close, but no one really ever took that place in Mark’s life from Donghyuck. Whether he held on consciously or not, he had refused to call anyone else his best friend, because to him, that title has always been reserved for one person only. Mark hadn't cared for a new one, either. Now here they are, and Mark isn’t sure if they’re still even friends anymore, but in his mind he was resolute in his belief that Donghyuck was and still is his best friend. Looking at this stranger in the driver’s seat, though, makes his conviction waver.

"Don't stare too hard, Mark,” the object of his thoughts quips nonchalantly as he adjusts the rearview mirror. Mark's head snaps to the front, tearing his eyes away from Donghyuck, cheeks heating in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I was just wondering where you're taking me," he replies, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strange as he was currently feeling.

"I haven't decided, actually. I know a lot of good places here in the city that aren't too touristy, I know you hate crowded places,” Donghyuck adjusts the volume of the stereo. “You feeling like coffee or do you want a full course meal?" 

"Maybe just drinks, for now. I'm not particularly hungry." 

"Café it is, then."

Donghyuck doesn't seem to be up for small talk, eyes focused on the road, so Mark turns and looks out of the window. He watches the picturesque palm trees waving them along the familiar highway, and he remembers the numerous times he's been here (a few times with Donghyuck, and a few times without. _The before and the after,_ as he likes to call it in his head). The city had always felt new to him every single time they came back, pretty but in an alien sort of way. 

They continue to drive down the highway, Donghyuck's golden brown hair glowing faintly inside the car. After a few turns the scenery changes, and the area looks newer, more crowded, young professionals milling about. They pull into a parking lot and Donghyuck kills the engine. After a short walk they arrive at a little curbside café, counter lined with chintzy boxes of tea and uneven lumps of cheese. A bell tinkles as they push the door open.

"Come on in." 

The inside is almost full, so as Donghyuck heads inside to place their order, Mark picks an outdoor table situated in the closed off balcony area and sits down surreptitiously. Against his will, his eyes turn back inside to follow Donghyuck as he walks up to the counter. He notes the elegant jaw, the slope of his button nose, wrists dainty under the cuff of his shirt.

He's so tall now, _almost as tall as me_ , he observes. Donghyuck is wearing a billowy white button-up shirt and ordinary jeans, yet to Mark, he still looked every bit the celebrity he once was, the celebrity he was always born to be. His hair is unstyled and unkempt, the ends falling into his eyes at the front. As Mark watches, a long finger combs back an errant strand of brown hair away from his face. Even without makeup his skin is still breathtakingly beautiful, dotted with beauty spots and nose upturned prettily. 

The breeze from the air conditioning unit carries Donghyuck's voice towards him as he chats with the barista. He orders in perfect English, to Mark's surprise, but then he remembers Donghyuck has lived in the United States for five years now, almost as long as Mark has lived in Korea. 

It's strange, but he can't seem to pull his eyes away. Donghyuck would look so different just for a fraction of second, and yet when their eyes would meet and he would back at Mark, it was as if no time had passed at all. It makes his axis feel off-kilter.

Shortly afterwards Donghyuck comes back carrying a plate of food. As he pulls back a chair and sits down across him, their ankles knock together quietly under the table. Something rattles in Mark's rib cage. 

Sunlight slants through the open balcony and Mark squints as it hits his eyes. Los Angeles in the summer was hot by anyone’s standards, but for Mark, who had not only grown to love the chilly winters of Seoul but enjoyed the long hours cooped up inside a practice room, it was sweltering. All the time he spent indoors has bleached the glow from his skin, and he knew for a fact that he did not look good in the sun. 

Donghyuck, however, wore it like a second skin. Despite the relative shade of the roof stretched over them, the other boy still glows in the light of the afternoon. 

.

They sit there in silence. 

There are so many boys around the room, yet the absence of sound is deafening in Mark's ears, giving away the fact that something is wrong, something is _really_ wrong. 

Most of them are sitting stoically on the sofas in the living room, the others scattered around on the dining table. On a table a big cake sits sadly, uneaten, while above them hangs a banner that spells out _NCT 2018!_ in wobbly, handwritten letters. The heater is on, but the tension makes the air in the room colder, lonelier. They had been in the middle of the impromptu party last night, celebrating the end of promotions when they had received the ominous phone call. 

At present, Doyoung is pacing around the living room, running his hands worriedly through his hair over and over again. The tension in the air is thick, so when the electronic lock suddenly beeps signaling someone’s arrival, twelve heads whip simultaneously towards the door. 

As it slides open, Mark finds Taeyong's hand on his knee and he grips it nervously. When it’s only the younger members and their manager who walk in silently, he slumps back down in his seat. Chenle and Jisung look shell shocked, while Jeno heads straight towards Jaehyun on the sofa and collapses on his lap. After a while they hear his muffled sobs, and Jaemin walks over, kneeling on the floor next to him, rubbing comforting circles on his back. Jaehyun only pats Jeno's head on his lap, looking for all the world like he might start crying as well. 

No one speaks. There's nothing to say anyway. 

A few more hours pass, time seeming suspended in their strange, silent vigil before the door beeps open once more. 

Mark finally releases the breath he had been holding in all night. 

_Donghyuck._ He stands up and feels a rush of emotion so strong he almost sprints towards the younger boy. _Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck,_ the voice in his head chants like a mantra. 

The sight of him wrings Mark's heart out, like it always does, except this time the look on Donghyuck's face stops him cold. There's something different about him, something broken, an emptiness in his gaze that makes it certain something has been irreparably broken. 

Suddenly Mark feels like throwing up.

Donghyuck takes in a ragged breath before he speaks. "She's gone. They couldn't save her." 

In the movies, the announcement of death is always met with outbursts, choking tears and streaming sobs. This time, in this dorm living room that has become a permanent home to all of them, there are no outbursts. No one falls to their knees, or shakes their fists at the sky. Nobody curses the heavens. Everyone is quiet and no one speaks, not knowing what to say.

The silence isn’t shattered when both Jeno and Jaemin start sobbing quietly in the background. Yuta gets a grayish tinge to his face and looks away. Taeil lowers his head into his hands, tears spilling from between his fingers quietly. Donghyuck has only confirmed what they've already known, what they've been dreading for the last twenty-four hours. 

Their manager moves forward. "I know this might be difficult for you guys. I know you all loved her a lot, and I know you want to be here for Donghyuck at this difficult time, but I have an important announcement to make." He asks Jaemin and Jeno to settle down, looking tired and weary and like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "We just came from a meeting with the president," the mention of their company CEO elicits nervous glances, but their manager pushes on, "and Donghyuck's dad. All parties came to a mutual decision."

Before he could finish, Donghyuck walks out the living room, eyes not meeting anyone’s, and Mark has no choice but to follow. (With Donghyuck, there has never been any other choice but to follow. He'd follow the boy anywhere, even to the ends of the earth.) The two head determinedly towards their shared room and no one makes a move to stop them. The low voice of their manager from the living room is cut off as the door closes behind them. Donghyuck's eyes have a wounded expression, and he looks pale, the lack of color startling against his red rimmed eyes. As he turns to Mark he arranges his face into a carefully blank expression, a measured calm as fragile as his countenance. 

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls,” Donghyuck says timidly, finally breaking the silence.

Mark licks his dry lips, confused. 

"No," he replies, shaking his head. "Of course you wouldn't. You needed to be with your family, Hyuck." 

Donghyuck moves towards their shared closet, rummaging through the mess of clothes until he pulls out a duffel bag and a suitcase. The very same ones he had brought all those years ago. He starts pulling out clothes, mechanically stuffing them into the bag. Mark, not knowing what else to do, moves forward to help him. He wracks his brains for something to say just to break the tension, but Donghyuck beats him to it.

"Do you remember where I put my black suit?" Donghyuck asks, beating him to it.

"Yeah, it's back here. You’ll be needing it, right? For the ... " _For the funeral._ Mark can't bear to continue. 

They both remain silent. The heavy air is only broken by the sound of clothes thudding gently onto the floor as Donghyuck pulls them out of hangers, Mark picking them up and folding them before arranging them into the suitcase. 

"Hyuck. I can't tell you how sorry I am,” Mark starts out hesitantly. "I loved her like my own mother, we all did."

The other boy doesn’t reply at first. He takes a sweater and smoothes it over the bed, before folding it mechanically. It takes him four more shirts before he answers. "She loved you best," Donghyuck replies. He says it tonelessly, no bite in his words, but none of the usual teasing lilt either. He looks too small and impossibly young hunched against the closet door. "Everyone loved her, especially the hyungs. She practically adopted everyone, but she always loved you best,” he chuckles shortly, but it echoes emptily in the dark room, devoid of any real mirth. "She bloomed under your attention, hyung. She loved teasing you, she used to tell me how she always found your innocence charming. We're too much alike in that sense ..." he trails off. 

Mark continues to fold the clothes, ignoring the telltale burning in his eyes and the wetness on his cheeks. His chest feels strangely hollow, like a hole had been cut into it. So this was what loss felt like. 

After they received the news last night, in the middle of the party, and Donghyuck had left in shocked panic, Mark had gone outside, grabbing his phone along the way and dialing his mom's number. By the end of the phone call, they were both crying, except Mark had pretended he was fine, keeping his voice level through the tears he blinked out of his eyes. 

"I love you so much, Minhyung-ah. Call me if you need to talk. You need to be strong, for Donghyuck. He needs you." 

His mom's parting words echoes in his mind now, as he watches Donghyuck, looking smaller than Mark remembers. He takes a deep breath, stealing himself. He needed to be strong, for Donghyuck.

This boy, always larger than life, despite being a head shorter, but today as he solemnly picks out clothes, he looks defeated. Diminished. Under the circumstances, Mark couldn't blame him, but the sight is disconcerting and eerie. It scares him more than anything. 

As he sits on the floor, folding more and more clothes, he is seized by an intense longing to reach out and pull Donghyuck to his side, to cradle his head between his arms and share some of the burden. 

Something on the floor digs painfully into his thigh and he reaches beneath him, pulling out a keychain from their Japan tour. He recalls a lyric from Chain. _A butterfly, spreading its wings slightly. Let go, let grow, let’s spread out._ He pockets it.

It takes him a few moments to realize how silent the room has become, the sound of rustling clothes coming to a stop. He looks up to find Donghyuck just standing there, looking at the empty closet, frozen. There is a look on his face that Mark can't place, but it sends a shiver of apprehension slicing through him. He notices with a jolt that Donghyuck's side of the closet is empty, with just a few old shirts and hangers swinging lightly. 

"Hyuck? Don't you think you packed too much?" he mumbles quietly, confused. The suitcase and duffel bag are both full, neatly packed, floor bare of clothes. 

Donghyuck doesn't answer and instead kneels to zip up the suitcase in front of Mark, standing back up with one bag in each hand, struggling with the weight. Mark dashes forward to take the bigger suitcase from him, and as Donghyuck opens the door and walks outside he can only follow in growing confusion. 

As they reach the living room, some of the other boys turn toward them. Everyone is crying now, even the Chinese members. Kun is sitting on the floor next to the television, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, and next to him is Sicheng, head perched on his knees wearily. At their entrance, a few members surge forward, taking turns to envelope Donghyuck in bone crushing hugs. Jisung is openly crying now in the corner, sniffling loudly under Renjun's protective arm.

As he surveys the room, Mark's eyes land on their leader. Taeyong is perched on the sofa armrest, staring at him with pity swimming in his red rimmed eyes. Him? Why is Taeyong looking at him? As his eyes make their sweep around the room, he notices Taeyong isn't the only one. Chenle, Taeil, Jungwoo and even Lucas are all looking at him, the same worried, pitying look painting their faces. When the others finish with Donghyuck, they all retreat back to their seats. The room falls silent once more, the air thick with something ominous, like the hush before a storm. Mark's insides squirm unpleasantly, and a headache begins to pound in his temples. It’s almost like everyone is waiting for Donghyuck to say something, but he doesn’t say a single word, only turns towards the door, expressionless, not meeting anyone's eyes, reaching for the doorknob. Jisung sobs louder into Renjun's shirt as Donghyuck and their manager exit, and after a few beats Mark can only stumble after them in a daze. What was going on? 

“Just one minute –“ mutters in confusion as he follows them outside into the fading daylight. He can't bear for Donghyuck to be alone any more than he wants to be alone in this. He trails behind them quietly because yelling seems too loud, too brash. Today seemed like a sadness for whispers.

He tries to call out softly but he is cut off as their manager starts the car loudly. Donghyuck loads the duffel bag into the open trunk, and Mark follows with the suitcase. Together they heave until it slots neatly into the trunk and Donghyuck closes the lid shut, turning towards the car door. 

"Wait,” he grabs Donghyuck's shoulder, urging the younger boy to look at him. “Hyuck?” It's like looking into a gaping hole, and it scares him, but he pushes on. "Tell me what's going on," he demands, practically begs. Nothing is making sense. 

"Hyung, I'm leaving." Donghyuck head is turned downward, as if addressing the concrete beneath their feet, lifeless. The sidewalk stays silent and Mark answers in its place.

"Leaving.” He blinks. “I know that. You're going home, right? For a while –“

"No. No, Mark, please listen." Finally, for the first time that day, Donghyuck looks up, looking at him dead in the eye. He holds Mark in place with a hand on his shoulder. 

His gaze is wide open and fierce, walls finally down, all pretenses gone. Mark wants to bottle this look, the afternoon sun dripping fire into golden brown eyes, but it also makes him want to punch something. Donghyuck still looks so beautiful, even in this half broken state. He looks at Mark, expression pained and almost too sincere. It’s the most alive he's looked since he arrived. 

"Please listen to me,” Donghyuck is practically begging now, insistent. _I'm leaving._ The group. The city. I'm leaving for good."

 _Leaving._

"Oh. _Oh_ ," Mark says. He steps back as if he had been slapped. Suddenly he’s dizzy, and he feels like falling to the ground, but Donghyuck’s hand on his shoulder keeps him steady.

 _Leaving._

The word rings in his ears. It punches yet another neat little hole into his heart, the biggest one yet. Loss, today. Loss, and now devastation. Heartbreak, he thinks, but not now. Right now he's still shocked, struggling to wrap his head around the word.

_Leaving._

"But ..." he begins dazedly. "Your contract. The group. The media, the fans ... " _Me_ , he wants to say. _What about me?_

Donghyuck only touches his cheek and shakes his head. "We've talked it over before we came here. The contract allows us to leave anytime, and the president understands. 2018 promotions are over. The group will be fine without me,” he says. 

No, we won’t, he wants to argue. We won’t be fine without you. _I_ won’t be fine.

Mark's heart starts beating painfully, and one clear thought pierces through the fog in his mind: Donghyuck can't leave.

But before he can speak Donghyuck continues, "I need you to understand. She was the reason I decided to do this. I endured everything for her. She kept me here, despite everything." 

The younger boy, suddenly looking a hundred years old, closes his eyes and sighs. "None of you will ever understand. She took a huge part of me when she left last night." Donghyuck chokes on the last word, but talks calmly through the fresh torrent of tears. "I'm really sorry. I'm sorry. But I just feel so empty. So hollow. Do you understand that? Do understand? I can’t do this anymore.”

Mark turns his face away. He can't bear to hear anymore. Donghyuck leans forward, clammy hands scrabbling up to latch on to Mark's neck. He tugs forward, brings his head close to make the elder look him straight in the eye. 

"I can't do this anymore. I can't do anything because I’m empty, hyung. It won't be fair to you, and to the fans." Donghyuck’s pupils are wide and unmoving. Mark can hardly bear to listen, every word feeling like a sledgehammer against his ribcage. He keens his head downward, digs his face into the younger's shoulder, trying to silence him, but it doesn't work. "There's no point in anything. There's just no point."

Donghyuck tugs him up again with a hand to both sides of his face. Mark’s vision clears, and he truly sees the person standing in front of him. The sun – _his_ sun, for so long the center of his orbit – was just a human, just a boy after all.

The realization makes him feel like he's taken a punch to the gut, and he wonders if it shows on his face.

This time it’s Donghyuck’s turn to press his face into Mark's shoulder, and like a habit he can't kill his arms automatically wrap around the younger. They stand like that, intertwined like the vines of the plants growing on Renjun’s windowsills.

They've been here before. They’ve stood like this a hundred different ways, for a hundred different reasons. Mark's mouth can't form words, shock still clogging his throat, and he pushes closer until there’s no more space between them. It’s still not enough, and he buries his face into Donghyuck's hair. He tries to take a deep breath, but it gets caught in his throat like a rock. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity before Donghyuck pulls back, wordlessly looking up into his face.

Something comes alive in Mark's stomach, uncoiling slowly and winding around his insides until he can't breathe anymore. A nameless emotion swims in Donghyuck's eyes, and the younger leans forward to press his mouth to Mark's cheek. Mark encircles his hand by the wrist and pulls him closer, turning his head to catch Donghyuck on the corner of his mouth. He makes a sound, closer to a sob than anything. The air tastes of desperation, and they both take a step to close the little distance remaining between them, turning their heads a fraction until their lips finally meet in a desperate kiss.

Two boys on the pavement outside their shared home, mouths pressing together, salty from the tears. Grief, heartbreak, every unsaid word momentarily disappears. Mark closes his eyes and holds on as best as he can.

The day grows older, the sky going from orange to a muted pink, and all too soon they pull apart and its over. This kiss is a stamp pressed to a letter—the final touch before it is sent off. The city air marred with Donghyuck’s familiar scent wraps around them, thick and familiar and traitorously pleasant. Donghyuck hugs him one last time, too short, slowly backing away. He gives Mark’s hand one last squeeze before letting go, turning to open the car door and ducking inside. 

_This can't be real_ , Mark thinks as he makes a grab for the handle. He pulls, but Donghyuck has always played dirty, and today is no different. The door is locked.

Finally, Mark snaps, the very last vestiges of rationality leaving him, and suddenly he doesn’t care anymore, starts pounding his fists against the tinted window, to no avail. He pounds harder and harder until it starts to hurt, but he doesn’t stop for a second. He can’t stop, or else Donghyuck will be gone. He catches sight of himself on the glass, and he can barely recognize the pale, shell shocked boy staring back at him. He looks gutted, eyes wide open, stunned and disbelieving, fists still pounding desperately. 

“Donghyuck, please,” his voice is small and hoarse, and he barely recognizes it as his.

The car revs forward and Mark remains frozen on the curb, the exhaust coating him bitterly. It disappears around the curve of the block, and he can only stare dumbly after it. His mind is reeling, his brain struggling to catch up with what just happened. For a long time he stands frozen in his place, trying to process the information. The sky goes from muted pink to a bruised purple, and more and more people start to fill the sidewalk as shops close for the day. The old man from the convenience store next door glances at him nervously, pace quickening. How strange he must look, just standing there. 

After a long moment he sinks down to the sidewalk, unable to hold himself anymore. He sits there frozen, he cannot believe Donghyuck just walked away, in the middle of the afternoon, not even looking back once. He sits, stunned, replaying the slamming of the car door, and the slow disappearance. He sits there in silence until the still-warm ground cools, the dark purple sky giving way to a black blanket marred by city lights. He stays there for god knows how long, waiting until a strong breeze comes and the cool night air no longer smells of Donghyuck. As if fulfilling the demands of every damn cliché, rain starts to fall. It smells overwhelmingly of dust and city exhaust and finally, as the rain starts to soak his shoes, Mark finds the strength to shakily stand up. 

He walks numbly back to the dorm entrance, punching in the passkey. He bumps into Taeyong in the hall, who is putting on a coat and holding two yellow umbrellas. “Finally,” the elder breathes a sigh of relief when their eyes meet, “I was gonna go and look for you.” He clutches Mark by the arm, face a picture of concern. “You were gone for so long and I was getting so worried." 

They usher him into the kitchen where Doyoung, eyes puffy, waits with a towel that is immediately wrapped around him. They sit him down with fastidious care into one of the dining table chairs and Taeyong grabs the one next to him, pushing it as close as possible to Mark’s until they are sitting side by side. 

"Are you okay?" 

He almost laughs at the absurdity of the question, but he can only shake his head slowly, and as Taeyong moves forward to wrap him an embrace, the dam in his chest begins to break. As the tears finally start to leak out one by one, he tries to cover his face, tries to keep all emotion inside, but Taeyong's hands grip his wrists to pull his hands down, as if telling him it was okay to let it out and it makes throat constrict even harder. 

Finally, he lets himself shatter in their leader's arms, knowing their leader will hold him together. 

He sobs into his hyung’s shoulder, shaking with the force of his tears, weeping quietly, without any expression. He cries with abandon. He tries to reel it in, but the sobs escape, relentless. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he weeps into Taeyong’s chest, although he had no idea what he’s apologizing for. “It's okay, Mark. You're going to be fine,” Taeyong rubs his back, whispering words of comfort, but the irony is that Mark can hear the tears forming in his hoarse voice, too. 

He cries, and they stay there together for a long time, and he cries some more, feeling like he'll never ever stop, wave after wave of emotion beating against his lungs. He let's it consume him, feeling everything. Donghyuck is gone. He leans forward and slumps into his hyung, let’s Taeyong carry all his weight, hoping it will ease some of the pain. 

Eventually, after what feels like hours, he runs out of tears, fully spent for today. The weight of his anger and grief ebbs, and he thinks maybe there's nothing left inside him anymore. He feels like a wrung out rag, limp and tired and completely empty. It feels better, but also worse this way, this strange emptiness. He disentangles himself from Taeyong, who looks like utter shit, eyes swollen and face blotched, but he knows he probably looks even worse. A steaming mug of tea is placed in front of him by tired-looking Johnny, who still musters a sad smile for him. It looks more like a grimace than anything.  
.

"Thank you," they both smile up at the guy who sets down their drinks. “Slow day, Kevin?" Donghyuck makes small talk with the employee, and again Mark finds the perfect English disconcerting. The guy called Kevin tells them to enjoy the food before he smiles, straightens up and goes off to get more orders. Donghyuck clears his throat as they are suddenly left alone together. 

"So–“  
"So–" 

They both laugh again, and Mark ignores the kick of deja vu. He and Donghyuck always had this weird synchronization, and apparently not even years apart could weaken it. Mark smiles at him. "This is so weird."

"I know!” Donghyuck beams at him, eyes going wide. “You look exactly the same. I knew it was you the second I saw you, Mark."

"No honorifics now?" Mark teases gently, and although his expression does not change, Donghyuck's ears turn a charming shade of pink. The lamp hanging over their table hangs so low it almost grazes the top of Donghyuck's head. 

"I'm sorry. When Amber comes visiting we never use them. Would it make you more comfortable if ... ?"

Mark only chuckles, patting his arm. "No, no, I was only teasing. Oh, and by the way, before I forget, I was expressly ordered to show you this first thing. Threats were made in case I forget, mind you, so it's safer to get this out of the way now." 

("I swear Mark, you better not come back to Korea if you forget to show him this. I'm not even joking," Taeil reminds him for the third time that day, wagging a toothbrush threateningly, but Mark only huffs in pretend annoyance. "I _know_ , hyung. Stop nagging.")

He rummages in his pocket, his hands triumphantly curling around a piece of paper. He unfolds it and smooths out the creases on the hardwood table, before pushing it towards the other boy. 

Donghyuck picks up the photo and clamps a hand over his mouth as he looks at it, but a muffled gasp still escapes. For a long time Donghyuck only stares agape, face going through a hundred different emotion. Confusion, turning into shock, before it settles into devastation. 

"Is this ... yours?" 

Mark freezes, trying with all his might to fend off the angry blush he can feel creeping up. He wants to sink towards the floor in embarrassment.

He clears his throat. "Uh, no. Taeil,” he scratches behind his neck, embarrassed beyond belief. “It's his. Not mine. He's the, uh, father, I mean, him and the mother. They're, like, having a baby?” 

"Oh. _Oh._ ”

Now it's Donghyuck's turn to blush, but he doesn’t acknowledge it and instead examines the ultrasound, holding it up to the light. "That's amazing, Mark." They both grin like fools, ignoring their embarrassment, sharing the same elated smile like they share a secret.

" _I know_. Apparently they've known for months,” Mark narrates, his excitement growing increasingly evident. “Taeil only made the announcement last week, after they got the ultrasound. We were in the rec room and the china unit were on a facetime call with us," he chuckles briefly at the memory. "He just blurted it out right away, and Chenle screamed so hard the iPad fell off the table. Johnny hyung and Hyunjoon hyung both cried." 

"Wow. I can't believe it,” Donghyuck shakes his head in awe, still smiling widely. He traces the shape of the baby with a finger. "Taeil will make the perfect dad. I'll have to send him and Jieun noona a text tonight. This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time."

"Yeah. Johnny already staked a claim, can you believe it?” He laughs as he recalls the hilarity of the situation, and Donghyuck’s eyes twinkle in acknowledgment. “He keeps referring to it as 'our baby' like we all have some sort of shared custody over it."

("I dropped by Baby Gap yesterday and they had the cutest little mittens that would probably look perfect on our baby–“

"There's no _our baby_ , Johnny," Taeil's wife cuts him off, glaring. "It's _our baby_ , lmine and Taeil's. The rest of you can refer to it as _the baby_.” 

Johnny only rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I still bought those mittens. They were on sale.")

"He won't stop showing us baby crib catalogs and asking for our opinion,” Mark continues, chuckling.

"That sounds just like him. I bet he already has baby names picked out." Donghyuck chuckles fondly, leaning to rest his cheek into his hand. "Who else knows?"

"Not that many. Aside from family and friends, just the members, a few company people, some seniors. We're planning to tell Jisung after he finishes his training and gets relocated to his battalion. They're planning a press release soon."

"And the fans ... ?" 

"Oh, we're actually pretty sure they'll take it well. We didn't expect them to be so supportive about Taeil getting hitched, you know? We thought there’s be more grousing to be honest, but it turned out they were just as ecstatic as they would be about a comeback, if not more.” He grins. “The next day there were congratulatory ads and banners all over the train stations and bus stops. They called Jieun noona the newest NCT member," he laughs softly at the memory of the hashtag that trended worldwide for two days.

"Hyunjoon hyung says the public has been teasing Taeil hyung about a baby since the Fiji honeymoon, so I'm sure they'll be supportive,” he continues, shrugging.

"You have good fans," Donghyuck remarks gently, voice laced with fondness over the fans who were the center of his life, once.

Mark looks up from his drink and gives him a hesitant look. "They miss you, you know," he stalls a bit, knowing they were approaching dangerous territory. _Tread carefully_. "They loved you a lot," he adds softly. “Most of them probably still do.”

Donghyuck only dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “I know that,” he replies softly. Although there’s a trace of heaviness somewhere in his voice, there's only a reassuring smile on his face and understanding in his eyes. "I'm a vocal coach at a small agency here, and sometimes I assist in dance lessons. Once in a while we get the occasional fan who recognizes me, though they've been getting rare these days. I’m old news,” he rolls his eyes, chuckling lightly. 

"A vocal coach?" Mark's heart knocks against his throat. All this time he’d wanted to know if Donghyuck still sang, and now that he knows the answer it makes his heart swell with pride. Nothing could ever kill the music inside Donghyuck.

"Yeah. It's not like a full time thing, but it helps me apply the stuff I learn in my music course at university. And it pays surprisingly well,” he adds. Mark badly wants to ask him so many questions – the fact that Donghyuck still enjoys music makes him heady with happiness and nostalgia – but he keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to cross lines he can’t identify, so he bites his tongue and hold the words in like he's underwater, his lungs burning.

.

"So. You're just gonna sit there and not say anything for the next hour?" 

Taeyong glares at the two of them in turn, arms crossed angrily across his chest. For the past two hours, their leader has been trying to get them to talk, but to no avail. When it became clear the mini counseling session was going nowhere, Taeyong's patience had finally snapped. 

"You two really have nothing to say to me? Or to each other?"

Both Donghyuck and Mark stay mute, the former glaring at the wall across him and the latter picking nonexistent lint out of his pants. They both avoid looking at Taeyong, or at each other. Their leader stares them down for a few more seconds before finally throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Ugh, fine. Fine! You brats can do whatever you want. But you know what?” Taeyong points to both of them in turn, and Mark holds his breath in dread. “You two are doing the dishes tonight." 

Mark groans loudly and Donghyuck finally turns in his direction, if only to glare at him, as if this was somehow his fault. 

"And you know what else? Doyoung is sleeping in Mark and Jaehyun's room,” he glares murderously at them. “That's right. That means you, Mark, can sleep in his place. In his bed. In the room he shares with Donghyuck." 

It takes a second to sink in, but when it does, the younger two suddenly come to life.

"Hey!" exclaims Mark.  
"That's not fair!" Donghyuck jumps to his feet, face a portrait of indignation, but Taeyong remains unfazed and continues as they voice more complaints. 

“I don’t want him in my room, hyung!”  
“As if I wanna be in your room, either.”  
“It’s my room! I get to decide who can sleep in it or not.”

“No one cares what you think!”

Taeyong shuts them up with a glare. "First of all Donghyuck, it’s also Mark’s room in the first place. He wouldn’t have had to exchange places with Doyoung if not for this stupid fight.” Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Second, you heard me. You may not wanna tell me what happened, and that's between you two, but as long as I'm the leader, what I say still goes. And I say no one is allowed to leave that room until you make up." 

He gets up and starts to walk out, but turns back at the last second. 

"I don't care how long it takes. I need you two to fix this." His voice loses it's hard edge, and this time he just sounds weary. "Even the fans are noticing. They're calling it the markhyuck fight or something, and Yuta says that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard” he sighs. “Renjun has already complained to me twice, and it's affecting the dreamies negatively. We can't have all this bad energy before we start promoting as eighteen next ye–"

"We get it, hyung," Mark cuts him off gently before it could escalate into another full scale sermon.

"Okay. Just fix this, alright? You guys are best friends. You're brothers. Don't forget that." Taeyong gives them a sad little smile before he finally exits the living room. 

After dinner that night, they stay behind to clear the table. The elders file out one by one, Doyoung sniggering quietly behind his hand. Sicheng looks worriedly over his shoulder at the sulking maknaes, but Taeil only grins wickedly before dragging the Chinese member after him. Taeyong calls out a cheery "Have fun!" while Yuta winks conspiratorially, until finally the two boys are left alone. 

When both the table and the floor are wiped spotless, they stand in front of the industrial sink, shoulders braced like soldiers gearing up for war. 

Mark frowns down at the piles of dirty plates. "Do you want to scrape or spray?"

"Do whatever you want, _hyung_ ," Donghyuck replies, a sarcastic emphasis on the last word. “Mind your own business while I mind mine.”

"Can you stop being a brat for two seconds?"

"I don't know, can you get your head out of your ass for two seconds?"

"Listen, I'm just trying to do what we were told to do."

"Oh, so after weeks of pretending I don't exist you're just going to start bossing me around now?"

Mark sighs, turning to glower at the younger. "Fine. If that's what you think. Whatever. You scrape these into the trash while I get the sprayer." Donghyuck scowls in contempt but doesn't say anything more. "We can load them into the dishwasher later."

They get into place, trying to avoid coming into contact with each other, Donghyuck grimacing as he grabs a plate. They work steadily in silence, and Mark's chest feels tight. It’s one of the few rare times they've been left alone together since they've fought, and he resents the angry, simmering tension between them. 

It used to be easy, being with Donghyuck. As easy as breathing, second nature to the both of them. But now everything is different, and Donghyuck hates his guts. The thought swims at the forefront of his mind uneasily, thudding painfully in his veins everytime the younger boy unavoidably brushes up against him as they do their work quietly. It's been weeks since they’ve stood this close to each other outside of the practice room. The last time Mark can remember touching him was on the day before everything crumbled. 

They had snuck out after curfew that night, huddled in a big blanket at the dorm's rooftop. It had been their spot for as long as they’ve known each other. The moon was bright, and Mark had never felt so young, so infinite. Donghyuck had pulled out a clear glass bottle with a green cap and a label that was unreadable in the darkness, stolen from Taeil hyung's secret cupboard. 

"I can't believe I picked the lock," Donghyuck had giggled in disbelief as Mark shoved his shoulder, laughing and eyes widened in excitement. He had initially felt nervous about their plan, but the younger's excitement was infectious. 

"Stop pushing me, Mark Lee!" The exclamation is made breathlessly, with no real bite, and it only makes Mark shove Donghyuck playfully again. In an effort to stop the elder Donghyuck had grabbed his hand, tucking them deeper into the blanket's warm cocoon. 

“I’m sorry," Mark had grinned, not looking the least bit sorry. "Couldn’t help it. It’s cute how excited you are about one bottle of alcohol.” They both had taken turns sipping from the bottle, fingers still laced through together. Donghyuck had offered a sip to Mark, tipping the bottle back into the elder's mouth. The liquid was tepid, but it burned their throats, sickly sweet. Saccharine green apples at first, but the aftertaste was sharp and chemical. 

Throughout the night they talked and laughed and talked some more, taking more and more sips as the moon rose higher, growing light headed and so, so warm. Donghyuck had taken a giant gulp of the alcohol and buried his face into Mark's chest, struggling not to cough. And failed anyway. 

When the bottle sloshed emptily at their feet, he had looked up at Mark, blinking, sleepy and sweet. The maknae had pressed his fingers against his cheeks, squishing them together. “So, so, so cute,” he cooed gently at the elder. His brown eyes had been glassy, a reflection of vodka and fondness, mouth pulled into a coy, knowing smile. He stared at Mark for second, eyes half-lidded before leaning forward to press an open mouthed kiss at the exposed column of Mark's throat. He froze, and before he even had time to react, Donghyuck had already pulled him down, closed the distance, and pressed their lips together in a slow, warm kiss.

"What happened?" Taeyong had asked them earlier this afternoon, over and over, patience wearing thinner as the minutes ticked by.

And Mark wanted to give him some sort of answer, but how could he ever really explain Donghyuck's soft, sure hands on his neck, tilting his face down to his? How could he explain how the black ceiling of stars had arched over them that night, Seoul lights and skyscrapers cocooning them against the cold concrete of the rooftop? How Donghyuck opened his mouth and had in turn opened up something inside of Mark, something that had been building steadily for years? There were simply no words to describe how his brain had completely halted to a stop at the sweep of Donghyuck’s tongue against the seam of his mouth. How could he explain to Taeyong how his heart beat so fast that he felt like flying, giddy from the magic of the kiss? 

He just couldn't, especially not when same boy who had kissed him that night was sitting on the adjacent chair, glaring daggers at his head.

His troubled thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a fork clattering to the floor, and his mind snaps back to the present. To the piles of dishes in front of him, now ready to be loaded into the dishwasher. 

Later he wipes his hands dry with a towel, before following Donghyuck briskly towards the room they were supposed to be sharing tonight. He hesitates out on the threshold, but when the other boys takes a step inside, Mark can only follow stupidly. His insides clench in both dread and anticipation. 

"Donghyuck ..." he starts out hesitantly. 

"We should get some sleep. It's getting late," Donghyuck only quips tersely, ruffling through his side of the closet.

"Oh yeah, Taeyong hyung's gonna _love_ that explanation when he finds us here tomorrow,” Mark snaps in annoyance.

"I'm tired, okay? And I really don't want to be doing this right now,” Donghyuck answers shortly, back still turned.

"If you don't wanna talk about this now, then when, Donghyuck? When else are we gonna talk about what happened?" Mark persists, voice rising.

"Let's just sleep on it, okay?" The younger of the two sounds tired and defeated as he picks out his pajamas, and it makes Mark so angry.

"You were the one who kissed _me_ , and now you wanna pretend like nothing happened?” Mark mutters under his breath as he plops down into the bottom bunk. “That sucks.”

Clearly, Donghyuck hears him, because a second later a stuffed Totoro plushie is flying towards his head, and Mark, seeing it just in time, ducks to avoid it, narrowly missing. He turns to stare at Donghyuck, eyes wide. “What the hell is your problem?”

"My problem? What’s _your_ problem, hyung? ‘That sucks? _That sucks’?_ You were the one who pretended like nothing happened!" Donghyuck finally faces him, his face a canvas raw with anger and undisguised hurt. "In the morning, you hurried out of the room the second I looked at you.” He points an accusing finger at Mark. “You didn't meet my eyes once for the entire day after that, and you proceeded to avoid me for the next five.” He glares, breathing heavily and eyes shining. “That's what sucks, Mark. _You_ suck." 

"I felt so guilty for kissing you without asking first, but how could something that felt so good be bad? I was so sure you liked me back, and everyone kept telling me you felt the exact same thing, but when you kept avoiding me I, was _beyond_ humiliated. I felt like absolute shit, hyung."

For a moment, Mark doesn’t know what to say. 

“Are you just gonna sit there all night with that stupid look on your face? Because if you are then this is a complete waste of time,” Donghyuck makes to turn back to the closet and Mark panics.

"I didn’t mean to,” he blurts out. “I didn’t know what to to do, I didn't know what to make of it. When we got back to our room, you went right to bed, but I was so confused I couldn't sleep a wink," Mark provides lamely. "I didn't mean to avoid you, but I just didn't know what else to do," he blurts out. "I needed time to think about – about how I felt." This had seemed like the perfect explanation in his head, but out loud, it’s stupid and inadequate and doesn’t even come close to explaining how confused and panicked Mark had been. Now Donghyuck looks even more hurt. Disappointed, even.

"That is truly the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”

"Well, pardon me for being an awkward, fumbling mess, but no one had ever kissed me like that before," Mark blushes hotly, anger and embarrassment painting his head the brightest shade of red. "I’m not—” He pauses to take a few measured breaths, unclenching his fingers. "I'm not good with ... emotions. I’m not like you. You know I'm not good with stuff like that." 

"Do you think being a _dense_ ass gives you a free pass to just hurt people who care about you? How do you think I felt, hyung? How could I even talk to you, when clearly you were embarrassed and grossed out by– by me," Donghyuck crosses his arms like he’s protecting himself, and Mark hates that he feels like he has reason to. He hates the quiver in his voice and the tears forming in Donghyuck’s eyes. "Like I was something filthy–“

"No, _no_ , it wasn't like that, not even close–“

_"Well that's how you made me feel!"_

Donghyuck stares Mark down, his anger a cannonball to Mark's stone throw. (Cheeks aflame, eyes bright, he was the sun personified. Donghyuck, but with the volume turned up to the highest level. An angry Donghyuck, in full brightness, was an utterly devastating sight to behold.) 

"This whole thing is so stupid. We've been so mean to each other this entire time, and for what? Because we kissed? It’s so stupid. Why are we doing this? Why –“ He seems so angry, despite the tears running down his cheeks, and Mark can't think of anything to say. 

"I mean … _ugh_!” Donghyuck growls in frustration, hands clenching to ball into angry fists. "I _hate_ this. I hate not telling you about things, hyung.” He wipes away the tear stains on his cheeks angrily. “I hate that my head is a jumbled mess and I can’t think, because I’m so used to talking to you to get my thoughts in order and I hate that I need you to keep me rational and I hate that I’m an anxious mess without you.” He sinks down to the floor and sits against the wall, burying his face in his upturned hands and Mark wants nothing more than to go over and take him in his arms. The next words are muffled and said quietly. “I hate not being able to hold your hand anytime I want to. I hate that I can’t touch you and annoy you with my skinship. I hate that my bed suddenly feels too big and too cold because you don't sleep in it anymore. I hate it.” Suddenly, Donghyuck seems to run out of words, visibly deflating. His anger falls away, hunched shoulders drooping. 

"Do you think it's just you?" Mark looks at him meekly, fighting the prickling behind his eyes with all his strength. I hated it, too, Hyuck. No matter how much we fought, we always fixed it in the end," he runs a hand through his hair, distressed. "And this one went on for so long, and I was so scared we'd stay angry at each other for the rest of our lives for something so small and stupid. I still am. Scared. Which is why I wanna fix this now, here," he gestures towards the sad, gaping space between them. "Because I can’t stand one more day of this. I miss you. I miss you all the time. I miss you _right now_ , so much it makes me sick." 

Mark stops abruptly, surprised at his own veracity. He wants to say more, but they all require too much honesty and he's already had enough for one day. But maybe, this time, he’s been lying for too long, and maybe Donghyuck finally deserves his honesty, so he speaks the one true thing he knows right now. “I miss you, Lee Donghyuck. And I’m really, truly sorry for what happened.”

This time it’s Donghyuck who fills the dark silence. "I'm sorry, too. I was so mean to you."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault, and I was mean right back, Hyuck.”

"I'm sorry I didn't realize how you felt."

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” Mark whispers. 

Donghyuck walks forward, towards him, hesitating before crouching in front of him, looking up into his face. "I'm sorry, too. I know lashing out wasn't the best coping mechanism." 

Two pairs of hands rest on Mark's lap, barely touching, but he feels comforted by the very missed, very welcome warmth and nearness of Lee Donghyuck. 

"I will die if we fight for one more day, hyung, I swear I will,” he whispers hotly, voice breaking at the last syllable.

Mark itches to take his face between his hands. He's never had such a visceral reaction to anyone except Donghyuck, tugging towards him like gravity. The past few weeks had been an almost physical ordeal, staying away and fighting against the magnetic pull, forcing himself to throw back every hurtful word that came his way. 

He lowers his head, inches closer to Donghyuck, like a moth to a flame. "You know what? Let's make up right now. I'm tired of being mean to you. Let's just stop, okay? Let's stop fighting."

And just like that war is over. It's almost comically easy.

Much later, when Donghyuck pulls up the blanket and slides in next to him on the bed, taking his hand almost feels like physical relief. 

They talk and talk, making up for lost time, whispering quietly until the early hours of dawn. 

They shake their heads at how petty and stubborn they had been, blaming it on raging teenage hormones. Quietly they laugh at the names they had called each other, wondering what the other members had said about them behind their backs, and if they'd taken any sides. They are both curled up on opposite sides of the bed, limbs a mirror of each other, the years of friendship and affection spilling out between them. 

It's been hard, Mark thinks as his arm slides easily over Donghyuck's waist, pretending to hate this boy. Fighting against their easy proximity these weeks past. This, here, feels easy; his hand under Donghyuck’s sleeping shirt, tracing patterns into the small of his warm back, their voices quiet as they try to understand each other, feeling the years of affection mixing with the air until their voices trail off into dreamy blurs as they finally drift off to sleep. 

In the morning, their door cracks open and wide brown eyes peek through the gap. Quietly it swings open to reveal Taeyong, drowning in his oversized pajamas. His hair sticks up in ten different directions and his eyes are swollen with sleep, but as he looks down at the two sleeping figures intertwined on the bed, he breaks out into a knowing smile and his face radiates a smug satisfaction.

All is right in the world again. 

His fuzzy slippers mute his footsteps as he bends down to adjust the blanket around the maknaes, pausing to brush an errant lock of hair back from Donghyuck's forehead. He looks at them for a few more moments before he creeps back out, leaving the muted morning light to seep quietly between the gaps in the curtains. 

. 

The last rays of saturated light shine through the glass windows.

The sun is setting. It streaks the opposite wall with a hazy glow, and the faint silhouette of their shadows reminds Mark of the afternoon he had last seen Donghyuck. They finish their food in amicable silence. Over the afternoon, they had talked and talked, Mark’s heart singing. Finally, conversation had grown sparse, but it wasn't really awkward until Mark started fidgeting with his teaspoon. 

"Just spit it out, Mark," Donghyuck chides gently. "You look like you're just dying to say something." 

How could he have forgotten that this boy was always an expert at reading him? "I just wanted to ask you ... a question." Donghyuck nods, gesturing for him to continue. "This might be a bit touchy."

He takes a sip of his drink, swallowing before he goes on. "I guess I just want to know if ... if you ever regretted your decision. To leave the group." _To leave me,_ he almost said.

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but there's no taking them back. He hates the hopeful note in his voice, and he wonders if the other boy hears it as well. The pause is fragile, and he clears throat, about to apologize.

"Look I'm really sorry, that was insensitive and I understand if you don't–“

Donghyuck takes a look at the expression on Mark’s face and throws his head back in a loud laugh, a bright, searing sound. Mark startles, confused, but his lips automatically twitch up at the sound of Donghyuck's laughter. He pokes the younger's arm. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry it's just – your face! You just looked totally scared! It's okay, Mark, really. Ca you stop freaking out for a second? That question isn't exactly ... new to me, you know. Stop looking at me like I'm a ticking time bomb," he chides, still smiling slightly. As he goes on his face turns more serious, eyebrows pulled together thoughtfully. 

"I was such a mess, for a while. It was horrible. I never would have forgiven myself if I put the group through that, if I let you see me like that. I lost a huge part of me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything properly, not right away. I knew then, and I know now, that it would have affected us negatively. There were already so many fragile boys ..." His eyes seem to swallow Mark whole as he speaks. "As much as I didn't want to leave, I knew it was the right thing to do." 

His voice peters out and they both stare out the window, absorbed in their thoughts. Mark fiddles with the napkin, waiting for Donghyuck to continue. 

“Not wanting to put any of you through that was one reason, and another was that personally, I also felt very tired, you know?” Mark looks up, confused, but Donghyuck continues. “I felt like there was no point to anything, and I just didn’t want to do it anymore. When President Lee asked me if I was sure, I meant it when I said yes. Also, I have a confession to make. I realized I was also selfish when it came to you guys. I made a promise to distance myself to spare all of us the unnecessary pain. But Taeyong kept in contact, kept sending me emails, even when I refused to write back in the first few months. He'd ask me stuff, tell me what you guys were up to, sometimes even just a quick hello to tell me he had seen something and thought of me that day. And it felt so good, you know? I wanted more. Even through the emptiness I knew I missed you ... all of you. Like I said, I was selfish, and I couldn’t help myself, so I after we'd been talking for some time, I worked up the nerve and asked him for your new email address.” 

Mark stops breathing. _I missed you_ and _selfish_ and _couldn’t help myself_ echoes repeatedly in his head, and his heart rings with hope. 

"It was really hard, for a long time. It was terrible. I used to ask myself, back then, what if I can’t survive this? What if I’m never, ever okay again?”

"But here you are.” 

Donghyuck nods, humming his agreement. "Here I am. And I'm good, happy, even. Happy-ish, and that's the best we can all ever hope for. Death changes you,” Donghyuck says simply. “But you can be okay again. Just a different kind of okay than before.” 

They’re silent for a while.

"You're different, too," Donghyuck gives him a searching look, like Mark was a puzzle that needed solving.

That look made him sad, reminding him of these new people they had both become. They should've grown up together. Once upon a time they had been experts on each other; quick to read the slightest shift of expressions, quick to decode words both said and unsaid. And Mark thinks it's what he's missed the most all these years. The feeling of being truly known, in a way that is deep and true. That was what he had with Donghyuck. The feeling of being seen as who you he really was, stripped of all pretentions, understood down to the core, without fear of judgement. And at that time he was young and he had mistaken it for a deep friendship, not realising how rare it was until it was gone.

He used to think certain people's hearts were meant to know each other, but now he's no longer sure. 

"Different how?" he shoots back, although he knows it's a stupid question. In more ways than one he is different, and yet in all the ways that matter he feels the same, except for one. Someone. 

"Well, for starters, you're now _embracing global stardom_ ," Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at Mark teasingly, and the latter cringes as the tacky phrase from the magazine flashes before his eyes. 

"I can't believe you've seen that," he mutters as he swallows down a blush. He should be used to this by now, people knowing things about him, but in this conversation it feels entirely out of place. 

Donghyuck chuckles. "'Course I have. I may or may not get a tad bit too excited when I see you guys on magazines and tv shows," he confesses, smiling unabashedly. "Now that I've seen NCT through a normal person's eyes I think I might have become a fan of sorts." His eyes twinkle as he teases Mark and for a moment he sees a glimpse of the trainee that bullied him for fun, his old best friend, the boy he loved. Donghyuck's mouth quirks up in a smirk, and Mark feels like a fifteen year old again. The whole time they've been here Donghyuck had been so different than he remembers – a little too solemn, too awkward. Caught in the moment, drowning in nostalgia, without fully intending to he suddenly blurts out:

"In five years, Donghyuck, not a day has gone by when I didn't think of you." 

Mark surprises himself, not just at how pained the words had sounded just then, but also with the realization that the remark is true. 

Someone opens the door loudly and a group of people walk into the outdoor area, and Donghyuck glances over his shoulder unconsciously. Inwardly, Mark wishes he could take the words back. He feels naked, exposed, but Donghyuck, seemingly unflustered by the outburst, examines him with bright eyes. 

.

"Me, too, Mark hyung.”

Jisung tugs at the eldest’s sleeve, whining. “Me too, hyung. I want a piggyback,” he says, widening his eyes for added effect. “Please? Please, please, please?

“Jisung, you’re like 4 inches taller than me,” Mark explains, exasperated but fond. Chenle, draped over Mark’s back, sticks his tongue out at Jisung. “I’m not strong enough to piggyback you anymore.”

The youngest pouts, miffed, and resorts to pulling at Chenle’s pant leg. This causes the Chenle to wobble dangerously on his perch on Mark’s back, and in his struggle to regain his balance his hands find purchase on Mark’s own face.

“Ow! Chenle, stop that!” Mark exclaims in pain, voice muffled through the fingers over his mouth, but the Chinese boy on his back chooses to ignore him in favor of aiming a kick at Jisung. Missing, Chenle slaps Mark’s shoulder until the elder lets go and he slides off. Jisung, sensing danger, starts running. 

Chenle runs after him, shouting murder while Renjun eggs him on with exclamations of encouragement.

“You’re trying to catch me with those short, stubby legs?” Jisung screeches over his shoulder, cackling as he runs along.  
_“You are so dead, Park Jisung!”_

And as much as Mark cares for Jisung’s well being, he stands there for a few seconds, laughing quietly to himself. The kids always made him laugh. He turns to check on Jeno and Jaemin who lag a few feet behind him, whispering among themselves, and Mark is left alone with his thoughts for a moment. He checks his phone for texts from the staff noonas, sliding it back into his pocket when he finds none. 

Today is a day off, a well deserved one after the chaos of promotions. The mini break feels welcome, and he feels grateful for the chance to reset and get their strength back. They turn a corner and he gathers the others.

“Are you sure this is it?” Jaemin asks skeptically, looking up at the run down building. “Minho hyung said it was here,” Mark replies, trying so sound confident. The the truth is, he’s not sure either. His mind flashes back to legendary prank stories of his seniors, and suddenly he wants to turn back. Could they have lied to him? Before he can voice out his doubts, Renjun is pushing the rusted door open, and the others have no choice but to follow. 

It’s one of the abandoned SM buildings from those early years, and the kids are elated at finally seeing the urban legend they’ve heard p about since they were trainees. They walk past the NO ENTRY SIGN, up the unused stairs and through the boarded up hole that used to be the ceiling of an elevator. It is eerily quiet, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the musty darkness.

Chenle’s eyes are wide and twinkling with excitement as they emerge from the elevator and into the wid rooftop? "Is that a helicopter tail?" Jisung is awed, eyes wide as he points. Mark can only shrug, smiling as they all start exploring around. They look through the rubble, a dilapidated couch, skeletons of old and rusted filing cabinets, pieces of broken glass, and Chenle ends up chasing Jisung again while Renjun runs after the two, shouting _you’ll hurt yourselves, you idiots!_

He hangs back as the others run around chasing each other, faces elated in the freedom and privacy of the empty space. 

Having eyes judging their every move is a burden they’ve long ago learned to live with, but sometimes times like these are a luxury they’re constantly greedy for. Mark looks around at the expanse of the Seoul skyline, and the view reminds him of a different rooftop from a long time ago.

It had been so easy to forget, he recalls, up there on the little rooftop he and Donghyuck used to share, away from the other members, the managers, the prying eyes of the world. Just him and Donghyuck, as it had always been, so easy and so poignantly sweet, the other boy always standing close, Mark fighting against the want pounding behind his ribs. Those unforgettable rose and gold afternoons of his childhood still haunted him with a sense of incompleteness as restless as an unlaid ghost. 

The cool wind on his cheek, faraway sounds like voices in a dream, suddenly moves him to an oddly irresistible impulse to pause and listen to something being carried by the breeze from somewhere, a song, or an insistent, unfinished prayer. The nostalgia is so intense it almost sends him physically reeling.

He looks around, sees the kids running wild, and he can see the potential for a story here. It's the kind of nice little anecdote he wants nothing more than to share with Lee Donghyuck. But he doesn't know where Lee Donghyuck is, or what he's doing, hasn't seen him for more than three years now.

So he tells himself he’ll just have to remember the story. To tell Donghyuck one day in the future, if they meet again. When they meet again. _When we meet again_ , he promises to himself quietly, _I’ll find Donghyuck and tell him all the stories he’s missed._

He startles as a hand pokes his side, and he sees Jaemin beside him, eyeing him thoughtfully. “I wish he was here, too, hyung,” he says quietly as he looks out over his members. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him.” Mark doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he only nods in assent. 

Renjun suddenly climbs on top of an old refrigerator, screaming lyrics with both hands raised to the sky, Jeno cheering merrily beside him. _Although we’re on the same boat, you’re on a different sea alone._ The words are thrown back a hundred times, echoing against the walls of the buildings around them. _I’ll be your home_.

As he and Jaemin jog after the kids, he feels the ghost of a brown haired boy running beside them. He can almost picture an open mouthed laugh, nose scrunched, hidden dimples showing, eyes crinkling in the corners.

. 

Mark presses his forehead against the window of the car, unable to stop himself from smiling like a fool. Outside, the familiar scenery to the airport rushes past in a faint blur. 

His mind drifts back to the dorm last night, where he had fallen asleep in the after making last minute additions to his almost-full suitcase before they left for Ukraine in the morning. He felt tired from practice, but in a good kind of way. The kind of satisfaction that comes after doing something you love. 

He had only woken up when Donghyuck had come bursting into the room, the light from the hallway spilling in. He had sat up, blinking against the sudden glare of yellow light.

“What’s wrong, Hyuck?”

“I forgot, I completely forgot,” Donghyuck had replied, skidding to a halt in front of Mark’s bed, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “I forgot you were leaving today.” He had shoved the blankets aside, climbing into the bottom bunk and folding himself against Mark, gathering him in from behind. Mark had almost stopped breathing.

“Hey, slow down, tiger. At least let me put on a shirt first,” he chided gently, patting the arm slung around his waist.

“But you’re leaving,” the younger had whined pitifully, the pout so apparent in his voice it made Mark smile. “A whole week. Just thinking about it is making me miss you, hyung,” he had spoken into the back of Mark’s neck, sending goosebumps blooming on the surface of his skin. Fully awake now, Mark had let the words run through him like a breeze, relishing them. 

“Yeah,” he had replied softly, staying still, unsure of where their conversation was headed. Donghyuck strokes his cheek with the back of his knuckles and Mark picks up his hand, lacing their fingers together. They had reconciled after the fight, falling back into their easy banter without a hitch, and unavoidably, their familiar intimacy. It confused Mark to no end, but it makes his heart race, the way he holds Donghyuck full attention these days, the way his brown eyes hold his, the way Donghyuck has him completely in the palm of his hand. “Ukraine, but just for a few days –“

“A week. It’s been a month since we made up and I’m sick of tiptoeing around each other and now you’ll be gone for an _entire week_ and I’ll go crazy if I don’t kiss you,” his voice is hardly above a whisper, but it still comes out pained. “Will you please let me kiss you?” He raises himself on his elbow, staring down at Mark, eyes unwavering. Despite the telltale redness in his ears and neck, his mouth is set in a determined line.

The one and only time they’d ever kissed each other caused them to not speak for more than a month, so as much as he wanted to (it made him sick, from just how much he wanted to) Mark had been physically restraining himself all this time to keep from kissing Donghyuck square on his cute little mouth. Everyday, every touch, everytime Donghyuck snuck into his bed was a constant internal battle between Mark and his control, and this time, he was tired of holding back.

This time Donghyuck had finally asked him outright, and who was Mark to deny him anything?

As he sits in the backseat, he feels a flush creep up his neck. Hard as he tries, the melody of Donghyuck's pulse thrumming under his hand runs through his mind in an endless loop. 

Not even a second after Donghyuck had asked, Mark immediately reached up and in one swift motion, pulled Donghyuck’s face down to his. Their mouths had slotted neatly against each other, hesitant and warm and wet and wonderful, cheeks exponentially radiating warmth with each brush of a thumb.

And now, as he sits in the backseat, the memory plays over and over in his head like a hymn. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can still taste Donghyuck on his tongue, can still hear his muffled groan.

Before he has time to think twice about it, he pulls out his phone and types in a short message. 

**I miss you already  
Sent. 6:34 **

**It’s barely been an hour loser  
Received. 6:34**

**It’s _already_ been an hour  
Sent. 6:35**

**You’re so clingy  
** **…  
Received. 6:36 **

****

**I miss you too  
Received. 6:37**

He feels a stupid grin creeping up his face again, and when he spots Yukhei glancing at him questioningly, and he tries to school his features into something less lovesick looking. He goes back to looking out the window, stomach tight with anticipation. Further away, the skyscrapers of Seoul tower in the distance like lazy guardians of the city they loved. After Ukraine, teaser releases would start, and 2018 Empathy promotions would officially begin. It was something the members and the fans had all been looking forward to for a while now. He feels his pulse thrum with excitement. This was going to be a good year, Mark was sure of it. He sees the facade of the airport drawing nearer through the windshield, the reporters and the fans crowding around the entrance, and Mark starts to smile. 

.

“This is me.”

Donghyuck pulls up outside the hotel entrance, killing the engine. Mark wonders what will happen next. His heart starts beating painfully in his ears, and he debates on what to say next. He can see that Donghyuck looks just as nervous as him, and knows he has to do this right. He decides to take a chance. “Donghyuck, I had a really great time —“

“Me, too!” Donghyuck interrupts, and it comes out squeaky. He clears his throat. “This has been really great, Mark. It was great to see you again, really really great.” Donghyuck’s voice is bright and upbeat, but he doesn’t look at Mark, staring straight ahead instead. “I’m glad we caught up, for old times sake, right? This has been fun, seriously. Lunch was really great. Really … great,” he finishes lamely, looking out the window and hiding his face. 

Mark continues to look at Donghyuck, and his mind drifts back to the last few years. So many songs, so many albums, awards. 

But everything had felt fake, meaningless. 

Mark loved his job, his fans, his brothers, but his life had felt like he was following a script. It had felt empty. The only thing he had ever wanted was always out of reach, some faraway vision, a pipe dream. And now Donghyuck was here, next to him. If it wasn’t for him, there wouldn't have been an empty space, or the incessant need to fill it. It wasn’t the feeling of completeness Mark so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.

Donghyuck was here. After years of waiting and months of messages and phone calls, Donghyuck was _finally here_ in front of him and despite his apprehension, Mark throws all his doubts out the window.

“Listen, Donghyuck …” Donghyuck turns to Mark instantly, eyes wide and expectant.

“I’m only here in L.A. today, and then I’m leaving for Canada tomorrow,” he says slowly. Something flashes in Donghyuck’s eyes and he opens his mouth to speak, but Mark continues. “ _But_. But I’m only there for a few days, for some papers and to see old friends.” He takes a deep breath and prays Donghyuck will realize. “And then I come back here, to record some songs.”

Donghyuck starts to smile, cheeks turning a rosy hue, and Mark could not stop the answering smile spreading across his face, too. “They’re making me promote solo here for good, in the western market. Under NCT.”

“To the world, and all that?” Donghyuck teases gently, and Mark laughs.

“Yeah. Embracing global stardom, you know?” he says, just to see Donghyuck laugh, and when he does, Mark feels triumphant. He momentarily forgets his fear, and pushes on. 

“So what I’m saying is – I’ll probably be here for an indefinite period of time. There’ll be recordings, shoots, interviews, marketing, the works, remember?”

“I remember,” and it is said softly, without a trace of bitterness. 

“I guess right now we’re still researching and mapping it out, but through all of that I’ll be here.”

“But you don’t need to be here for the preliminary stuff right?”

“Not really, no. I don’t have to be here for the first half of the research and marketing, I can just come back later for recording and filming.” He clears his throat. “They gave me the option to stay in Korea, but I chose to be here.”

“And why is that?”

He looks into Donghyuck’s eyes. “Because you’re here.”

Donghyuck is full on grinning at him now, and Mark knows he’s hard to resist in this form: glowing like the sun, rows and rows of white teeth, like a model in a toothpaste commercial. It’s hard to keep one’s head around Donghyuck like this, lowering all his defense almost like the way alcohol does.

And Mark suddenly wants so badly to say something, but he’s scared to say the next few words. Right then, he wishes so intensely for things to be different. Not in the way he had wished all those years ago, not a bitter, twisted sort of wish, but the kind of wish you make with all your entire heart, your entire soul. He wishes he had the strength to say what he truly meant, the way it was before. Mark hadn’t realized it was possible to keep missing Donghyuck from just a few feet away, but there it is. He imagines losing Donghyuck again, and it nearly flattens him, because he just can’t go back to that senseless life, so he takes a chance and forces his voice out. “Like you said, lunch today was really great. But when I get back, maybe we can get dinner?”

A beat of silence.

“Are you asking me out?” Donghyuck’s face is an unreadable mask, and Mark is afraid to even breathe for fear of scaring him off, or affecting his decision in any significant way.

“Yes. Yes, I am. A few years too late, I know, but yes I’m asking you out.” Mark of the years past would have been mortified to have these words come out of his mouth, because this was _Donghyuck_ , for god’s sake. His best friend. 

But the Mark of the present feels nothing but resolve in this moment, the sheer truth of the words giving him the strength for candor. Because his heart is brimming with affection, because this is _Donghyuck_ , for god’s sake. The only person who ever truly owned his heart.

“If you’re asking me to be Haechan again, I don’t think I ca—“

“No, _no_. Just. Donghyuck — just Donghyuck. I want you, just as you are,” he whispers, and he knows his face is probably burning, but he also knows this is important, he can see it in the other boy’s face, and he looks him dead in the eye, words forceful, heart hammering with the gravity of his sincerity.

Foregoing an answer, the younger of the two reaches forward with a wan smile and places his hand on Mark’s face softly, exactly like he used to. Where it annoyed Mark when he was younger, now it renders him frozen like a statue. 

“Still the same. Everything is just as it was before,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath quietly, as if in wonder. “Is it the same for you, too?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “You’re just as beautiful to me now as you were when we were younger. I loved you when we were sixteen and after the last few months, I realized I still love you now,” Mark blurts out, pained. 

He exhales slowly, a sound of disbelief. He wants to cry – at the tenderness, at glide of the thumb over his cheekbone, at the fact that Donghyuck is touching him for the first time that day, for the first time in years, for the first time since he walked out of Mark’s life all those years ago. He wants to erase the last few years from his memory. He wants to touch Donghyuck more, he wants to leave marks on his skin for the world to see, he wants to kiss him, _he wants_.

He can barely feel Donghyuck’s fingers, but he is acutely aware of the distance between them, and right now he wants nothing more than to close that gap. 

.

Even from a thousand miles away, even through electronic words buzzing through his laptop screen, Donghyuck was more alive than anything else in his life. He had been looking for an old email from his brother a few days ago when his eye caught on the email address of a message from a few days ago: _LeeDH00._

He wasn't sure if he was angry. He thought about it, but he didn't know if there was even anything to be angry about, or if he had any right to be. 

For the first few months that Donghyuck was gone, Mark felt it like a knife between his ribs, a gaping wound at the bottom of his chest just beneath his lungs. The aftermath had left all of them dealing with press conferences, interviews, a hurricane of news articles and speculations and angry, hurt, inconsolable fans. 

Mark couldn’t blame them, because he felt the exact same way.

Angry. Hurt. _Inconsolable._

The morning after was the worst of it all. In the first, still-sleepy moments he had woken up refreshed and with gratitude at being able to rest even for just a few hours. But then the awareness had come, the blinding realization that something was missing, and he had stared at the ceiling blinking at the strange feeling in his chest, almost but not quite a physical hurt, and suddenly in the blink of an eye everything had come crashing back like a collapsing roof — shards of glass and slate and plaster dust crumbling down on his bedding. Donghyuck was gone.

In the months that followed, he would jolt awake in a fit of panic at random hours of the night. He would lurch out of bed, sure that he’d stopped breathing, that there was a hole in his chest where his lungs were supposed to be, that he'd run out of air, that he'd lost the ability to hold it inside of him.

And everything – the events of the last few months, the empty bunk above him gathering dust in the musty darkness, the one name they refused to say around him – would all come rushing back to him again, just like the first time, and suddenly he would know how to breathe again, but every breath had felt like a shard of glass, cutting up his airways.

The air wasn’t gone. It was right there; it hurt to breathe, but the air was there, he just had to think about it. In, out. _In, out._

He had started wondering, back then, if he was going to have to spend the rest of his pathetic life reminding himself to breathe. Mouthfuls of air, _in, out, in, out,_ like a fish out of water. Over time, the nightmares grew less and less. He learned how to breathe again, but he never quite felt like there was enough air in his lungs.

For a long time life felt like he was living it in fragments and snatches of awareness, never truly quite present and just trying to get through one day, one schedule, at a time. The career path he had chosen was fast paced and demanding and didn’t have time to accommodate loss, so he did what he’s always done; gritted his teeth and got back up on his feet. And then after a while, months, a year or two, he had started to feel like himself again, little by little. Songs and albums and wins and awards kept coming, and he picked up writing again, his room was cleaner, he started going on walks, picked up a few books, started to think maybe he was gonna go back to the old him.

And then that email had come in the dead of the night, and suddenly everything went back to feeling not right again.

As he looks at the username on his laptop screen, bold letters indicating its state of unread, he becomes acutely aware of the lack of air again. But he also feels a tiny bit of hope.

He feels his cheeks warm, just thinking about Donghyuck again. 

And every night, each time an email appeared in his inbox, that seed of hope slowly grew, slowly dug it’s roots into the deep recesses of Mark, reaching up and up. That’s what Donghyuck did to him with their conversations, with just a few sentences – about the steadily declining demand for kimchi, or the ASEAN integration he’d stumbled about in an online forum, or the collector’s edition Michael Jackson album Donghyuck had picked up at a thrift store,or whether Mark would never eat watermelon again in exchange for immortality. The pros and cons of legalizing medical marijuana, the teacher at SOPA who had gotten pregnant and disappeared in the middle of the school year, Yoonho's latest mixtape. Donghyuck could email him a folder of weird looking cats and it would still make Mark’s heart race. They talked about everything, and yet they talked about nothing. 

They avoided talking about what happened, but with every red notification that popped up on the upper corner of his email app, Mark's heart soared. 

Donghyuck pulled the blood to the surface of his cheeks. It made him feel like things were happening, like his life was actually going somewhere. Like life was happening. Even if the emails (which later became texts, and then voice messages, and then phone calls that lasted for hours on end and left him wanting more) reminded him of the distracting weight of Donghyuck's physical absence and made him miserable sometimes, tainted the shine of the idol life, it was reason enough to lose sleep, reason enough to get up at three in the morning, to force himself awake as he checks his phone, trying not to spill his heart as he types words in. 

Today he slinks through the living room, smiling at his phone over a new email notification. The subject bar reads **‘IMPORTANT, please read at earliest convenience’** but it’s from LeeDH00, so he knows better than to fall for it, but like everything else concerning Donghyuck, he falls for it anyway. 

He slings his towel over his shoulder and clicks the link, which redirects him to an article: _King of Predebut Pictures — NCT’s Chenle_ , and he can’t help the peal of laughter that escapes his mouth. He scrolls through the page, the soft backlight gently illuminating the soft curves of his face.

.

He opens a tab and types in a few more things, the clack of the keys and the clicks of the mouse the only audible thing breaking the stillness of the night. He hears a knock behind him, and before he can turn around, the door to the studio creaks open and after a few seconds, a warm pair of hands slide over his shoulders to envelope him in an even warmer embrace. He feels more than he sees Donghyuck’s presence behind him, and as a cold kiss lands tenderly on his cheek he breaks out into a smile.

“Hey there,” he greets as he half turns, reaching back behind his chair to gently slide a hand over Donghyuck’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s almost three,” the other boy remarks quietly, wrapping his arms tighter around the elder’s shoulders, honey voice thick with sleep. “Come back to bed, Mark.”

“It’s okay, you go ahead. I’ll just wrap up this verse and then I’ll be right there.”

Donghyuck jabs his chin softly into Mark’s shoulder. “Nonsense. I’ll stay here and wait for you.”

Mark sighs, exasperated, although his smile says otherwise. “If you don’t go back to sleep now, you know you’ll be sleepy in class tomorrow.”

“Yes, well, you’ll be tired for the interview tomorrow, too, if you don’t sleep now.” Donghyuck presses a kiss to his shoulder, and he can feel the heat through the thin material of his shirt. “I say that makes us even, so let’s just both go back to bed okay?” Donghyuck hugs him even tighter, nuzzling his head into Mark’s neck. “Besides, the bed is cold without you.” The brush of cool lips on his nape makes him breakout in goosebumps, and suddenly Mark is warm and tingling _everywhere_ and so he minimizes the tabs and shuts down his pc in record time, let’s a sleepy Donghyuck drag him into their bedroom across his studio, let’s him press one last kiss to his shoulder before tackling him gently into bed, laughing softly. He opens his arms and Donghyuck falls right in.

A few hours later, he comes into awareness, sitting up quickly, ears ringing and heart beating wildly in his chest, before he realizes Donghyuck is next to him and he starts breathing normally again. He chugs down the glass of water on the side of the bed and tries to swallow the residues of the nightmare in his tongue. He lies back down carefully, taking care not to wake up the boy beside him. He takes deep breaths, mouthfuls of air, _it’s okay it’s okay you’re fine it’s okay_ running through his head. His hand roams beneath the blanket until it finds Donghyuck’s warm hand, and he squeezes it tightly, intertwining their fingers together, needing something to ground him back in reality.

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks, suddenly awake, moving closer to curl gently in to his back like two commas next to each other. He wraps his arm around Mark’s shoulder, rubbing the warmth back into them. They fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces falling int place.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Mark asks, reaching up to clasp the younger’s hand. 

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck whispers, stroking the back of Mark’s hand slowly. “Are you okay, hyung?” 

He considers lying, but it’s not worth it. Talking to Donghyuck is easy, his high pitched voice a shelter in the darkness, and Mark needs him to keep talking so he can breathe again.

“I dreamt about you.” 

He turns around, taking care not to unentangle their hands, and in what little early morning light that slips between the gaps in the curtains he can just make out Donghyuck’s eyes, shining wide with worry.

“I dreamt that you were gone,” he whispers, hand curling into Donghyuck’s sleeping shirt. “It’s the same dream everytime. I dreamt that you left me again, and I couldn’t breathe.” The other boy grimaces, Mark’s words just as painful for him, too. He shifts closer, burying his head in Mark’s chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck mumbles, voice broken. He presses his mouth over Mark’s chest, right above his heart, still thumping unevenly from the remnants of the nightmare. “I’m so sorry, hyung. I swear I’m never leaving you again, I promise.” He takes the hand that’s curled into his shirt and brings it up, pressing his lips into Mark’s lined palm.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It was just a dream,” Mark whispers in reply, voice tight. 

“I won’t leave you again, okay? I’m never leaving you,” Donghyuck’s voice is delicate, even as he takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I know. It’s okay, I know.”

Mark presses his lips to his temple, once, an apology, shifts closer and presses another kiss into Donghyuck’s lavender scented hair a second time, a promise. They fall back asleep like that, holding each other, Mark breathing easier, _I’m never leaving you_ suspended like thick smoke in his lungs. 

.

“You know what?” Donghyuck mumbles glumly. “We should have listened to Taeil hyung about the weather.” He steps out from under the awning of the movie house, holding his hand up to catch at the flakes that rest in his hand for a second before melting gently. Donghyuck was always warmer than the average person. “We should have atleast worn warmer clothes.”

Mark hums in agreement, staring out at the street covered in a thick blanket of white snow and wondering how in the world they were gonna get home in this. The snow didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Today had been the first day of their christmas break, no schedules or practices on the horizon, and Donghyuck had been bugging him about the new Marvel movie, so they had gone out to see it, brushing off Taeil’s somber warning. 

Donghyuck turns and smiles, looking like a little kid, his hair dotted with white. “How about we walk to that bus stop near the park? The one we used to take home back in middle school?” he asks, and for lack of a better idea, Mark can only nod his head. 

He rubs his palms together, blows on them in short huffs that surround his hands in white haze. Massive flakes, bigger than any Mark had seen, circles in flurries from the sky. He jogs the rest of the way to catch up with Donghyuck, who had started to walk ahead.

They walk side by side, both quiet, and as much as Mark would like to pretend it was a comfortable silence, it was laden with something he couldn’t name. 

Earlier at the cinema, as soon as the lights went down, Donghyuck had lowered his head onto Mark’s shoulder. And instead of pushing him away like he characteristically would, he had only put his arm around the younger to draw him even closer, and he felt rather than saw Donghyuck freeze for a second before finally melting into his side, relishing in the heat. 

He barely saw any of the film, focusing on keeping the thrumming of his pulse to a minimum, to even out his breathing, to not lean in and inhale Donghyuck’s scent. By the end of the film they had only drawn impossibly closer, practically curled into each other’s laps, Mark’s head dizzy with confusion and something else. So when the lights had suddenly come back on, the two jumped apart as if they had been electrocuted. And he did, he felt as if he’d been zapped by lightning, tingling from the tips of his fingers to the top of his head. _What just happened?_

And it wasn’t just today. Something had changed between them lately, something subtle and quiet and almost imperceptible, although if he thought about when it started to happen or when he began to notice, he’d always come up empty. But everytime Donghyuck touched him these days, it was always with a bit of hesitation that had never been there before, a little less innocent, a little more intentional, gaze probing, as if he knew exactly the storm he caused inside Mark’s stomach, as if he felt exactly the same storm messing up his own insides. And it’s totally unfair, the way Donghyuck acts when it’s just them, in the dark, the way his voice changes into something small and soft like his words are something meant for Mark only to hear, the way he pulls Mark close and makes butterflies erupt in his belly, the way he can no longer bear to push Donghyuck away like he used to. 

The farther they walked, the heavier the snow seemed to get. He feels Donghyuck suppressing shivers next to him, and without thinking, he takes off his thin gray hoodie in one swift movement and offers it to him. 

“But hyung,” Donghyuck stubbornly refuses, shaking his head, “you’re freezing, too.” Mark doesn’t reply, only persistently offers the hoodie in his outstretched hand until the other has no choice but to finally accept it. 

Donghyuck puts it on, and Mark stops him gently in his tracks to adjust the strings on the hood, tying it tightly. “So you don’t catch a cold,” he says, flicking the tip of the younger’s button nose. He expects an annoyed response at his domineering, but instead he’s surprised at Donghyuck’s silence and the dusting of red creeping across his cheeks. 

Mark becomes acutely aware of how close they’re standing, how Donghyuck looks under the dull light of the street lamp above, how his eyelashes glisten with flakes of snow clinging to them. His breath audibly hitches, and he knows Donghyuck probably hears it too, if his smile is anything to go by. They start walking again, shoes crunching in the piles of freshly accumulated snow. Slowly, the bus stop comes into view, signalling the end of their walk. Donghyuck pokes him in the side. “Why is your face so red, Mark Lee?” he asks, wagging his eyebrows, as he sinks gratefully into the plastic seat.

Mark feels his face heating up even more. “It’s only because of the cold, dumbass,” he mutters, sitting down, turning away from the fluorescent glow of the soju advertisement to hide his uncontrollably growing blush. 

“Have you ever had soju, Mark hyung?” Donghyuck suddenly asks, staring at the ad next to them, IU’s adorable smile holding out a soju bottle.  
“You know I haven’t.”  
“Well, I saw this green bottle in Taeil hyung’s secret cupboard in the kitchen, and I’m thinking of sneaking out into the rooftop sometime to try it.”  
“That is the worst idea I have ever heard.”

They’re silent again. Mark turns to sneak a look at Donghyuck only to catch him already staring back at him, and they share a lingering look for what feels like an eternity before he drags his eyes away and shifts his gaze to the empty street before them. 

Suddenly, he feels Donghyuck grab a hold of his hand, rubbing it between his own two before he slips it into the pocket of his hoodie, Mark’s hoodie. 

“Hyuck, what are you doing?” This time it’s his turn to stare, and the younger’s turn to avoid his eyes, looking out into the deserted white abyss of the highway. 

“It’s only because of the cold, dumbass,” Donghyuck throws his own words back at him. He’s still not looking at Mark, but he purses his lips, holding back a smile, blush growing even more pronounced.

Winter air usually tastes bitter and metallic to Mark, but today it tastes sweet and tangy, and as he grips Donghyuck’s hand tighter, he feels an answering smile bloom across his cheeks.

.

As he turns away to climb the stairs leading up to the hotel entrance, strangely he still feels empty. But this time it’s a different kind of empty — empty of all the hurt he had carried around for the first few years, empty of the undisguised yearning he had struggled to hide during the time he and Donghyuck started talking over the phone again.

He hears a honk and turns around, watching as Donghyuck rolls down the window to give him a little wave and a big smile. A true smile, so warm and genuine he felt something stumble inside him. It might have been a new way for his heart to beat, or an old one he was only starting to learn again.

And yes, he still feels empty, but Mark thinks it’s a good kind of empty; like spring cleaning, the kind of empty that left room for better things. 

There are traces of nostalgia everywhere – in the shifting of the air, in the buzzing city lights slowly coming to life, in the curve of Donghyuck's smile. 

Mark closes his eyes, as he tries to memorize the way the world feels all around him in that moment, the trees, the parked cars, the old lady sweeping cigarette stubs off the sidewalk, and Donghyuck; smiling at him, his hair glistening in the afternoon sun, of him in his car waiting for Mark to get inside. He feels taut and alive, like the hush before the surprise, like the pause before the dive, like the breath before the kiss. Like he’s on the brink of something beautiful. 

.

The warm air of early summer fills their senses as they walk back to the dorms after training, dust and hurried Seoul pedestrians and snatches of city cacophony surrounding them. Donghyuck walks next to Mark, who talks about the upcoming arrival of the new batch of trainees as they walk along. They pass by a convenience store and Mark offers to buy popsicles for the both of them.

“But we already ate at the hotteok stall earlier,” Donghyuck points out, lingering by the doorway. 

“Are you saying you don’t want a free blueberry popsicle?” Mark looks back at him, grinning. Donghyuck only rolls his eyes before pushing past him, intentionally elbowing him in the stomach, and into the blessed cool of the air conditioned store. 

They stand in front of the freezer, deliberating about which flavours to choose. When the girl manning the register snaps an annoyed “Please close the freezer!” at them, Donghyuck makes a grab for his usual blueberry, while Mark chooses a green colored one at random. After they pay they step outside, back into the heat, and instead of the tables scattered lazily up front they opt to sit in the steps where the shade is cooler. The pedestrians seems to have disappeared one by one, this time it's only him and Donghyuck and it’s quiet save for the sparse air that laces through the brittle grass and dry ground.

Donghyuck sits down, head coming to rest against Mark’s shoulder, soft brown hair catching the sunlight.

Their knees are inches apart, fingers at their sides close enough to touch, the air between them comfortably quiet.

“You usually get watermelon,” Donghyuck remarks suddenly, his voice sharp in the lazy afternoon. He turns and glowers at Mark’s green honeydew flavoured popsicle.

“I wanted to try something new,” Mark returns mildly, no bite in his words. “Sometimes we need a bit of change in our lives,” he jokes in the same voice Hansol hyung uses when he decides to get all philosophical on them.

Donghyuck makes an angry noise, removing his head from its perch on Mark’s shoulder and turning away to pick at the loose threads on the cuff of his faded blue jeans.

Mark waits a few more beats before he speaks. “Are you gonna tell me what you’re so upset about?” he asks. Donghyuck doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look in his direction, muttering something about not being mad, not at all. Mark moves closer, poking his cheek. “Don’t lie to me, Hyuck-ah. You’ve been weirdly quiet all day, and the only time you open your mouth is to pick a fight with me.” He moves his finger from Donghyuck’s cheek to his chin, pulling his face forward so the younger is forced to look his way. “What are you thinking?”

Donghyuck looks him in the eye for four and a half heartbeats (Mark counts) before he gets up and walks to the trash bin to throw away his popsicle stick. When he sits back down he starts picking on his frayed jeans again. Mark waits. 

“Hyung.”

“Hmm?” 

“What do you think about Jaemin and Jeno?”

“The new trainees? They haven’t even arrived yet,” Mark replies, confused. “You know I haven’t met them.”

“But, y-you sound pretty excited about them. You keep bringing them up.”

“That’s because I am! I’m always excited about new trainees” he grins at the idea. “Besides shouldn’t you be more excited than I am? They’re 00 liners, too, just like you.” 

“Well … yeah, I guess,” Donghyuck answers, and it doesn’t fool Mark for a second. He waits. “Mark hyung. Promise me we’ll still be friends, okay?”

“Donghyuck, what are you talking about?”

“If it turns out Jeno and Jaemin are funnier than me, or cooler than me, or better at singing or dancing than me, promise me you won’t abandon me.” Mark’s gaze flickers, before he breaks out into a large grin, moving closer to put his arm around Donghyuck. 

“Hyuck, you’re an even bigger baby than I thought,” he says, before another burst of laughter escapes him. “I’m not gonna abandon you,” he laughs, because the idea is ridiculous. This does nothing to ease the creases on Donghyuck’s forehead, so Mark reaches out and smooths them out with his hand. Donghyuck wrinkles his nose and swats his hand away. 

“Just, just say you finally get sick of me, and decide you like them better, and no one’s gonna wake me up in the mornings for practice or help me with my dancing —“

“Donghyuck. You’re such an idiot,” Mark smiles at him, ruffling his already unruly hair. Donghyuck finally looks at him, and Mark takes the moment to be as genuine as he can. “Listen to me. I won’t abandon you. I’ll always be here.”

Donghyuck stares at him, forehead reasonably less creased, but still frowning. “Really?”

Mark nods. “Really. What are you so upset about? We’re stuck with each other for good, and nothing’s gonna change that.” He nudges Donghyuck’s hand, and the younger takes the opportunity to tangle their fingers together. Instead of pulling away, Mark simply lets him. “Even when we debut. Even if they put us in different units. Even when I’m 20, and it’s curfew and you have to go home early, I’ll even go home with you,” he says as sincerely as he can.

Donghyuck considers this for a moment. “Now you’re just lying.”

“No, I’m not! Minseok hyung says award shows are boring anyway.”

”Promise?”

”Promise.”

Later, as they walk home next to each other in silence, the SM building looming closer in the distance, Donghyuck asks him again one last time. “You meant what you said, right?”

Mark nods. “I’m sure we’ll be next to each other for the rest of our lives.”

“How are you so sure, hyung?”

“I just have a feeling.”

**Author's Note:**

> \+ big thank you first to the prompter who sent this, i hope i did it a tiny bit of justice, second to the moderators of markhyuck fic fest who were very kind and accommodating and just the loveliest humans ever, also to [clay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cledritch/pseuds/cledritch), my ever supportive friend who i miss very much and finally to ji and mia who share my unending love for markhyuck, whose dedication and hard work never fail to amaze me, ily two!
> 
> \+ i made a [cc](https://curiouscat.me/illumarks)!


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